The Ledgers of Liars
by Isha Saini
Summary: "She has lived many roles - Natashenka, Natalia, Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, and Avenger. She takes pride in only the very last one of them."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**

**The events, characters and entities depicted in this story are fictional. Any resemblance or similarity to actual events, entities or persons, is entirely coincidental. The characters, places and entities in this story bearing resemblance to the creators' ... creations, are owned by them. No copyright infringement is intended.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ledgers of Liars**

Midnight shadows the devastated ruins of what was Stalingrad. The unearthly winter scene, so utterly, utterly cold - mocks the abandoned and smoking homes and the fragility of human life, its warmth subdued with such ease.

In one of these, hidden within the darkness of the night and the silence of the winter, a young girl weeps over the ruins of not bricks and mortar and cement, but the scorched remains of what it had sheltered - her family.

A child of the night, undone by the savagery of fire and hatred. In that moment, as she gazes upon the lonely immensity of the land, she gravitates towards the magnitude of her loss and grief, and learns to fear the light.

_(The light took her family, incandescent and luminescent, and it still burned _her_, scorched her eyes and seared her heart as she looked at their unseeing faces, knowing that the light took this from her.)_

Somewhere beneath an ebony heaven, where birches and aspens seek the sky with a languid grace (as if only waking) and an ivory land shrouds the graves of the dead, Natalia Alianovna Romanova sleeps to winter's lullaby.

The Black Widow wakes, then, and leaves behind a child who slumbers in innocence.

* * *

><p>When Natalia Romanova opens her eyes, she is merely another individual awaiting the abandonment of an identity of no worth to the Red Room.<p>

When Natalia Romanova opens her eyes, she knows nothing of herself or her loss, and any inkling of it pales in comparison to her newfound abilities.

_(Erksine's Serum leaves a mark indelible enough on her skin and in her blood, but it pales in comparison to the one burned into her soul.)_

* * *

><p>Her very first mission is a success. It is easy enough for her, the serum having enhanced a ballerina's formidable stamina, agility and strength, and forged an intellect for tactics and strategy.<p>

She takes little notice of the man she kills, other than the bare necessities. There is no pride taken in her accomplishment, simply a calculated plan that will get her to her destination.

The Red Room has taught her to analyse and interpret the body language and tone and facial cues well enough, even so far as to ensure she can predict anyone's responses within minutes of confronting them to an astounding accuracy.

_(The Red Room has taught her the art of knowing people well enough, but not so much the essential worth of understanding them.)_

* * *

><p>She is the very best - the pinnacle of the Red Room, their <em>pieta<em> - ruthless, infallible and so very, very dangerous.

She knows it and that the title bestowed upon her - _Chernaya Vdova_ - is - _must be_ - built upon the foundation of years of single - minded devotion to her country. The perfect soldier.

The name is branded upon her in that moment, and the tenuous, fragile link with Natashenka gone forever. She feels little regret at that, little regret knowing that she has not been a child in a long, long time. The only lullabies the _Chernaya Vdova_ knows are gunshots and bombs and the only stories she knows are those of her missions. The Red Room has taken from her everything - her family, her identity and now her humanity.

And yet, she takes pride in the name bestowed on her. It tastes strangely bittersweet.

_(She lies and kills in the service of liars and killers, in the name of Mother Russia, and takes pride in it.)_

* * *

><p>When she meets Clint Barton, every instinct - branded as always into her consciousness by the serum and the Red Room - screams at her to defend herself and kill him because an enemy to her is an enemy to her country.<p>

She knows he has been sent to terminate her - he is not the first one and will not be the last. But she is the Black Widow, and the only reason he could even attempt to do it is because she has let him.

In the darkest part of her mind, she is tired of it all.

_(She wishes she could hear a lullaby not composed of gunshots and bombs a last time.)_

* * *

><p>To her incredulity, he decides not to kill her. She wonders if he might have survived at all if she had not given him the chance, but then buries the thought.<p>

She recognizes this as an opportunity to not kill and feel the thrum of life fade away, and clings to it more tenaciously than she has ever clung to her own life.

_(The chains binding her to Natashenka had gone when the Red Room claimed her, but only now does she break the chains of the Red Room.)_

* * *

><p>The bargain seems reasonable enough. It would seem that she has merely traded loyalties, but she knows it is more than that.<p>

Her loyalty to the Red Room was a compulsion, her loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D is a choice.

She still kills and lies - no international organization like that could embark towards a good end without less moral means.

And she remains silent, watching as S.H.I.E.L.D does its duty and keeps peace with gunshots and bombs.

_(In the darkest part of her mind, she believes she should have spoken against it; perhaps her title still controls her.)_

* * *

><p>When she meets Tony Stark, she is both unsurprised and unimpressed. He is, as she would write later in a report file to Fury, ridiculously self - destructive, compulsive and a classic case of textbook narcissism.<p>

But somewhere in the back of her mind, she has a nagging suspicion (a remnant of the Black Widow training programme) that it is a deliberate act, and the man is far too unpredictable for him to be this easy to write off.

It seems, that even after all these years at S.H.I.E.L.D, and all the months scrutinizing Stark, the Black Widow is right and Natasha Romanoff is wrong.

_(There is no place for free will in a soldier's mind, and she is the best - made of them all.)_

* * *

><p>She will always stay true to her loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D and her duty to her teammates, and make sacrifices when needed.<p>

Trust, however, is something she doubts the Black Widow would give away even after a lifetime of duty. This particular aspect of her she shares with Stark. His paranoia and distrust of people around him ("I don't like being handed things") - other than Pepper - is made quite obvious with his security system and varying personality roles.

This time, she delights in the Black Widow being proved wrong.

* * *

><p>When she dies, it is with little regret over what she has been made, choosing only to remember who she has become - another aspect she shares with Stark. Living in the moment.<p>

She realizes she has not been the Black Widow in a long, long time, and though she is aware that this charade of an Avenger will not endure, she cherishes it and plays the part perfectly as so many other roles she has lived.

_(In her final moments, she remembers and listens to fairy tales and lullabies spun by Natashenka.)_

_Fin._

* * *

><p><strong>I wanted an angsty one - shot but unfortunately it ended on a semi - hopeful, bittersweet note. Ah, well. I need coffee. I love coffee. And science. I watched Avengers a while ago and got inspired by Nat's badassery, anti - electron collisions, cluster recognition, quantum tunneling effect, heavy ion fusion, etc. The usual. So much science, I'm like a kid on Christmas.<strong>

**Ahem. Right. About the story. If you could review that'd be great. Just kidding - YOU FRICKIN' WELL HAVE TO REVIEW 'CAUSE I'M WRITING THIS IN SPITE OF WANTING TO GET THE HECK OUT OF HERE AND CHUG DOWN SOME COFFEE.**

**Chillax. No pressure. Just - have some decency, okay? I did work my ass off my chair and through Earth's atmosphere on this. I'm not yelling at you. Why so serious? Hah.**

**Okay, I'll shut up now. Yes, I know I blabber a lot. No, I don't care that I don't have a filter between my brain and my mouth. Mwah!**


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